


Start

by missdibley



Series: Old Town [3]
Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Chicago, Eventual Smut, F/M, NSFW, Summer Love, old town
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-06-30 18:23:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15757224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley
Summary: Spring and summer came to Chicago with virtually no word from Tom after his weekend with Mina. So what about fall?





	1. Chapter 1

__ I don't know where the road leads  
You don't know if I'll break your heart  
And we don't know how the winds will blow  
And we won't know  
We won't go unless we start

John Legend, “Start”

* * *

I thought I saw Tom on the el last week.

The brown line, to be precise. I do a reverse commute, wherein I ride north and west up to Ravenswood instead of south and east to the Loop like most people. I share an office in a converted warehouse that houses the agency where, as a “content strategist” (read: copywriter), I write stuff for (mostly corporate) clients.

It is as exciting as it sounds.

There was a guy standing just to the left of my seat. He was reading a book that I recognized, a collection of essays written by an acquaintance who left Chicago years ago to write for television in Los Angeles. He held the book in his left hand, long fingers fanned out to keep it propped up and open, while he hung onto a handrail with his right.

It was the hair — unruly and unkempt, not quite red but not quite brown — that made me think of Tom. Also this dude was tall and skinny, dressed in a wrinkled blue shirt and jeans. But when he closed the book and tucked it away in his satchel, I saw that he had a round forehead and deep set eyes on a clean-shaven face. Our eyes met for moment, and then I turned away.

_ Not Tom _ , I thought.  _ Not by a long shot _ .

I knew it couldn’t have been him. I haven’t seen him since winter, when we met by chance. In a dive bar full of young, nubile girls who were eager for his attention, my chubby middle aged ass picked him up and fucked him silly for the next twenty four hours.

Twenty four hours, give or take.

We did stop for brunch.

We’re not animals.

Apparently in the time that he was here, in the little time he wasn’t with me, he was plotting with John C. Reilly and Michael Shannon. And once he was back in England, and we were sort of awkwardly texting, he confirmed that he’d be back later in the year to help John and Michael do a show at Steppenwolf. Kinda like what he and Kenneth Branagh had done with  _ Hamlet _ last summer.

A three weekend engagement of  _ The Crucible _ that would be produced and performed by and for Chicago Public School students exclusively. Students from around the city who were at this moment auditioning for supporting roles, applying to join the stage crew or work in corporate in marketing and sales.

I sent Tom an email, congratulating him on the deal. My last text to him, wishing him a good night a few months ago, was not much older than that last email.

But I never heard back. So I didn’t follow up. Not when I saw that he was in Seattle for a con. Or heard the news that he was coming to Chicago for a con this fall.

I may have masturbated to that news. But I didn’t do much more than that. Not when there was no word.

Until that morning last week.

When I looked away from the not Tom on the train, checked my email on my phone and found this.

_ Mina: _

_ Long time, no speak. Sorry to make you cringe with that efficient if inelegant turn of phrase, but it’s true. _

_ It’s been a couple of months, and I apologize for not replying quickly — if at all — to your friendly texts from across the Atlantic. _

_ I’ll be in town next week to start rehearsals. I’ve seen some of the student auditions on Skype, and look forward to meeting our gifted young cast once they have been assembled by John and Michael. _

_ I’d like to see you, if I may. It may be a bit mad at first, settling in and getting my flat sorted, but it will be nice to see a friend in what will be my adopted home for the next few months. _

_ Take care. _

_ Yours, _

_ Tom _

* * *

_ _

The view from Lennie’s new apartment isn’t bad. You can’t see the lake but there is the skyline all the way downtown. Sixteen stories below is Lawrence Avenue, and to our right is the Aragon Ballroom. Lennie’s hosting an impromptu housewarming and pre-game before she and her cute little friends head to the Aragon for a show. Some EDM act I’ve never heard of, so I’m making it an early night.

Sort of.

“So what are up to after…?” Lennie’s friend Adam waves his arm around the tiny studio where we’re all crammed in. “This?”

“Dunno,” I said. “Probably just go home. Or maybe do some late night shopping at Treasure Island.”

“Come to the show with us!”

“It’s sold out,” I reminded him.

“There’s a DJ set after at The Metro.”

“Wrigleyville on a Friday night?” I snorted. “Hell no.”

“What are we saying ‘hell no’ to?” Lennie bumped me from behind, so I bumped her right back.

“Mina doesn’t want to come out with us tonight,” Adam said.

“I’m  _ old,” _ I corrected him. “No offense, but I don’t want to spend an evening surrounded by 22 year olds high on molly.”

“It’s not molly,” Lennie said, frowning. “That’s strictly for teenagers vomiting on the Metra on their way to Spring Awakening.”

“Irregardless,” I say, “My thirty five year old ass will go into hibernation until Riot Fest.” I hugged Lennie. “And speaking of sleep, I’m gonna take my ass home to bed.”

Lennie linked arms with Adam, who shook his head as I waved goodbye. “You don’t look a day over twenty five,” he called out, just as Lennie’s door came to a close behind me.

Out on the street, the air was humid but not heavy. Despite the absence of a cooling breeze off the water, I felt comfortable. I wasn’t wearing anything special, just the linen blouse and stripey skirt I got off the clearance rack at Target. But there was something about the way my skirt twirled around my knees, like I could dance if I wanted to. It felt good.

My phone buzzed once, and then again, from within my purse. I ducked around the corner to check it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Mina reunite in Chicago. Mina makes a new friend.

The driver of the taxi I hailed simply nodded when I got in, not replying as I burbled: “Hello” and “How are you” and “Park Hyatt, please.” Instead he just smacked his gum and drove on, starting the meter when we got to the light at Lawrence and Sheridan.

And then we were clearing the ramp to Lake Shore Drive. The car picked up speed, so the wind whipped in through the windows up front, which he had left open. I let my head fall back while my hair flew around my face.

The driver turned up the radio:

_ Shoo-Bop Shoo-Bop, my baby _

_ Shoo-Bop Shoo-Bop _

_ Hello stranger _

_ Ooh _

_ It seems so good to see you back again _

_ How long has it been? _

_ Ooh it seems like a mighty long time _

_ Shoo-Bop Shoo-Bop, my baby _

_ Ooh _

_ It seems like a mighty long time _

I should have been touching up my makeup, or wondering if I should stop at the Walgreens on Michigan and Chicago to get stuff. What do you need to prepare for a visit with someone you may end up sleeping with?

Condoms? Sure. We didn’t use any last time because we must be the same kind of fucking idiot. Also who knows if he’s slept with somebody else since we last saw each other. And even if he did what business is it of mine?

I had a couple of hookups thanks to Tinder but it was just oral. Given and received, of course. Before that, Tom. Before him? A long term relationship that ended two years ago when he wanted to get engaged and I did not. Last I heard, he’d gotten his girlfriend pregnant and they were planning to move to Cleveland.

Good for them.

Tourists are tourists. I don’t usually pay much attention to them but I couldn’t help admiring the ones who streamed through the lobby of Tom’s hotel. Couples in their fifties wore matching Tod’s driving loafers with linen outfits from Eileen Fisher or Tommy Bahama. Younger groups heading out in their clubbing finest, stumbling in their excitement and anticipation.

I idled near an empty couch, a couch so deep I could see myself needing a crane to be lifted out of it. Just as I decided to get in, there was the soft  _ ding _ of an elevator door opening.

And then the unmistakable sound of a dog’s paws scrambling on a perfectly polished travertine floor.

A cocker spaniel the color of fudge slid to a stop at my feet. He didn’t strain at his leash, not until I saw it go slack and fall behind him. Clearly that was the signal for him to nuzzle and lick at my ankles.

“Bobby.” The soft burr of a gentle reproach was like a bell ringing and I was powerless to resist. I looked up. And when I did, I laughed because I couldn’t even see Tom’s face. Just the glare of a poorly placed spotlight that made me squint in his direction. He laughed, then crouched down to pull the dog off my feet.

He looked good, Tom did. Good, but tired. Maybe a little thinner, but it was nice to see his beard and hair were robust (with a likely assist from the humidity). A worn blue shirt tucked into dark jeans. Suede ankle boots that I wanted to touch. Cup his bare ankle with one hand as I undid the laces with the other.

“Hey,” I said, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden. God knows how sallow and greasy my face looked after the warmth of the day, in the glare of that infernal light above. “How are you?”

“Good. Glad to be here.”

“And who’s this?” I turned my attention back to the dog, who now sat placidly next at my feet.

“Bobby,” replied Tom, his voice warm. “I thought we could use a walk. Stretch our legs.”

“Get the lay of the land?” I mused.

“Help getting up?” Tom offered a hand and I took it, squealing only a little bit as he quickly pulled me back up to my feet. And once I was standing again, he slid one arm around my waist. He nudged my cheek with his nose, a brief yet wholly satisfying nuzzle, then chuckled.

“Thanks for coming,” he murmured, lifting his head again. He squinted at my bag, which had been on the floor next to me. “That looks heavy.”

Shrugging, I hoisted it onto my shoulder. “I haven’t been home yet, and I just have some stuff I’ve been meaning to bring home from the office.”

“Leave it at the front desk?” He nodded at reception. “They can watch it.”

Tom insisted on bringing it over to the desk himself, exchanging a few words and pleasant smiles while I got to hold Bobby’s leash. When we headed to the revolving door, Tom easily got down to scoop the dog into his arms and carry him like baby outside.

And maybe I swooned a little. Maybe I felt a delicious thrill as we headed, not east towards the lake, but north a bit, then around the corner to walk in the little side streets that made up this quiet corner of the Gold Coast. Bobby sniffed every mailbox and garbage bin, lifting his leg to spray a few trees and bike racks. There were a few other dog walkers out, mostly older lap dogs that seemed indifferent to Bobby’s attempts at introduction. Their owners, mostly elderly people who yawned their greetings, seemed indifferent to us.

Us. Hmm.

What’s the difference between comfort and familiarity? Between walking and talking, quietly, in the dark. Not holding hands but not shying away from touch. Hands brushing, nudging occasionally after a particularly bad joke.

We made it as far as  [ the little park ](https://www.chicagoparkdistrict.com/parks-facilities/connors-park) by the Sofitel. It wasn’t more than a trellis, a few trees and some benches. The fountain was off for the night, and I walked around on its lip while Tom followed Bobby circle around it. When I yawned, Tom chuckled.

“Sorry, I’ve just been prattling on, haven’t I?”

I shook my head. “Just needed some oxygen. It’s been a long day.”

Tom nodded. “And I’m still on London time, so I should be trying harder to get to bed at a decent hour.”

“What are you up to tomorrow?” I asked.

“Meeting Michael so he catch me up on auditions, other stuff with the play. But that’s not until the afternoon.”

“So you can sleep in? Very nice.”

“Yeah but I should probably start looking for a flat.” Tom rubbed his face. “I have a list of places to review but I haven’t started yet.”

“Where were you thinking?”

“Close to the theater,” Tom explained. “Lincoln Park, is that the neighborhood?”

I nodded. “That’s just north of me.”

“What’s your neighborhood called again?”

“Old Town.” I glanced up at him. “You interested?”

Tom smirked. “In the area? Sure.”

I decided to ignore the smirk. “I like it. If you can find something in the triangle, go for it.”

“The triangle?”

“The historic bit. Cobblestone alleys. Restored Victorians. Very charming.”

“And while the Park Hyatt is not without its own charms…”

We were just coming around the corner, back within sight of the hotel and its uniformed doormen. There was a park just there, but we had skipped it as it was a bit too loud, still too busy with tourists taking pictures of the Water Tower and eating pizza out of greasy boxes from Giordano’s.

“It’s not really home, is it?” I finished the thought.

Tom nodded, then waited for me to enter the lobby before following me in.

We stopped at the reception desk, where a different clerk from before looked confused when we asked for my bag.

“I see.” He checked a display in front of him. “We had the valet bring that bag up to your suite, Mr. Hiddleston.”

“Oh.” Tom looked at me. “Do you mind coming up to retrieve it?”

I felt like I had to hiccup. If chewing one’s lip might have signified being nervous, then what did a hiccup mean? Nothing, right? It was just an involuntary response, a reflex that had absolutely nothing to do with the very handsome Englishman peering at me from behind slightly smudged glasses. Completely divorced from the cool touch the back of his hand against mind which contrasted with the barest flush that colored his chest and neck. Just a coincidence.

“No,” I replied, blinking. “I’ll come up.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mina's wondering whether or not she should go home when the weather makes that decision for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay, and the lack of smut. This time, anyway.

I couldn’t bear to look at him. Not entirely sure why. All we were doing is standing in an elevator that rose, swiftly and silently, to the very high floor where his suite was situated. I was going to retrieve my bag, which the valet had brought upstairs when he or she mistook it for Tom’s.

But when I snuck a look at him, he looked too placid, too cool, too innocent. Like he was up to something, and part of that something was acting like he wasn’t.

_ It’s not like you really need anything in that bag, _ proclaimed a tiny voice in my head.  _ It’s just some stuff you ordered from Universal Standard, the pair of heels you usually keep under your desk at work. Two books, and a water bottle. Stuff you could easily come back for tomorrow, or the day after. _

_ Or you can retrieve it tonight, _ a second voice exclaimed.

_ Of course, _ I replied silently. I must have made a face, though, because when I looked up, Tom’s eyebrows sort of twitched before they settled and his lips pursed a little.

_ After you’ve gone to bed with him! _ , the second voice crowed triumphantly.

“Oh for fuck’s sake…” I whispered to myself.

“Mina?” Tom tilted his head. “Alright?”

I nodded, only jerking a little when the elevator stopped, well, elevating, and arrived with a bounce at Tom’s floor. The doors parted, he held his hand out as if to keep them separated, and I walked on through.

It was just down a corridor, then around a corner. So why did this walk feel longer than the amiable sort of amble we’d just gone on with the dog? There was no air here, no cool breeze off the lake that made the hem of my skirt dance and flirt. Just the hum of expensive air conditioning. Nothing carried in this silence, which felt prim to me. I became aware of a layer of perspiration on my lower back, where my blouse was tucked in. It felt heavy, and I would have done something — untucked the skirt, or surreptitiously swiped at it with my fingers, but then we arrived at Tom’s door.

Standing aside, he held it open for me and we followed the dog into the suite. Bobby graciously paused to allow Tom to unclip his leash, then made straight for a shabby sort of blanket that lay on the floor next to a crate. He curled up, making little huffing noises as he did, and it made me laugh.

“Let’s see if we can locate your bag,” Tom said, making for a pair of French doors just to the right of where we came in. They were open. I walked in after him, and took a shallow breath.

His bedroom, where the bed had been turned down for the night. Pillows fluffed up and tilted just so up against the headboard. No flower petals or chocolates, but a pair of votive candles had been lit and placed, one on each of the nightstands that flanked the bed. My bag was set next to an open suitcase, and a large backpack, on the floor in front of a cupboard.

“Oh, I’ll just be taking that, then.” I sounded a touch too breezy, a little too casual. Betrayed by the quick stumble that interrupted the few steps I had to make to retrieve my bag. After I’d grabbed it, I spun around to find Tom sitting on the foot of the bed.

“Everything in there?”

“Yeah,” I replied with a nod. “Just some stuff I’ve been meaning to take home from the office.”

“Oh?”

“Nothing important, I just…” Shrugging, I trailed off. “Stuff.”

“Right.” Tom’s face was placid. “Shower?”

_ Wait, what?, _ I thought to myself. And so I said, “What?”

Tom bit his lip. “When you texted earlier. Said you might need a shower.”

“Oh.” I set the bag down.  _ Good girl _ , the second inner voice piped up.  _ Now we’re getting somewhere. _ “It’s kinda late. I should probably get going…”

_ Bloody idiot _ .

Tom’s eyebrows twitched. Jesus, did he even know how cute that was? “If you’re sure…” He began to say.

I wasn’t sure, actually. But just as I was about to lie and say sure, I’m going to take my ass home from this maybe booty call I had clearly fucked up, a huge bang went off outside. The windows rattled, sheets of rain that beating against them. The slight breeze appeared to be gusting winds, and now the sound of thunder.

“Mind if I wait out the storm here?” I whispered.

Tom smiled. “Room service? I’m a bit famished all of a sudden.”

“A snack sounds good.” I set my bag back down, and laid my purse beside it. I kicked off my sandals, and stood in front of Tom.

“I can have you… rather, I can have  _ it _ ready when you’re out of the shower,” Tom explained, looking up at me. His eyes were clear and focused and for a moment I felt unsteady on my feet. I may have actually swayed back a little and when I did, he caught my left hand in his right. Rubbing his thumb over my knuckles, he said nothing.

* * *

There was a view from the shower. Not from the bathroom, but from the room within a room that was the walk-in shower. A square cut out in iridescent tile, it revealed nothing more than the rain that had seemingly come out of nowhere. The bathroom lights were dim because of course there was a dimmer. I closed my eyes as I shampooed my hair, humming as I smelled oranges and flowers. The body wash smelled the same, so when I finished I had a taste for something sweet and tart.

Tom had said to leave the ordering up to him, and so I did. I remembered the tea we had the last time he was in town. The last time we were together. Would it be afternoon tea, or a midnight feast?

I didn’t want to get back into my clothes, not yet, and the hotel bathrobe was too heavy, so I opened up the parcel from Universal Standard. Inside was a  [ nightie ](https://www.universalstandard.com/products/meko-nightie-dark-sapphire) , folded up into a little square that slid easily out of its plastic sleeve. It fell right onto me, sliding over my head and down my arms. The cut-out hit just at the top of my left thigh. It was too much…

_ Is it? _ , that naughty second inner voice whined.

_ Yes _ , the first voice said firmly.  _ Don’t forget your office cardigan, _ it reminded me.

The bedroom was empty when I returned. I stuffed my street clothes into my tote bag, and pulled out the sweater I wore at the office to guard against the a/c. I was just shrugging it on when I heard Tom call to me from the outer room.

“Mina? Supper’s here.”

Tom was fussing over a cart upon which were two silver domes, and a basket containing what I guessed was bread wrapped in a dinner napkin. It smelled wonderful.

“What’s that?” I felt my nose crinkle up with pleasure. “It smells great.”

“Oh, just some salmon,” Tom replied, without looking up. “I waited on dessert. I reckon we could just…”

Tom turned, still in the middle of speaking when he stopped at the sight of me. He went still, and for a moment I almost worried there was something wrong — with him or with me.

Or rather, I would have worried if I had the time. Because Tom was striding across the room, his sock-clad feet hard against the floor with each step, and then he was guiding me. Hands on my hips, he steered me back into the bedroom, onto the bed until I sat, I fell back and then he was on top of me. I opened my mouth to take a breath, and he pressed his lips to mine. They were soft. His beard tickled my chin, and then he lifted his head. His glasses were smudged, so I gently removed them so I could look in his eyes. Was he panting, or was I?

“I…” I tried to say, and he cut me off with his mouth again. His tongue. The quiet moans seemed to vibrate through my skin. The feeling of his hands as they clutched at my bare thighs, and then the brush of his fingers against me when they found me bare.

Bare, and wet, and waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the universal standard nightie described in the story, and it is so wonderful.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hashtag #actualsmut instead of #eventualsmut.

Hitch. Catch. Halt.

Repeat.

Hitch. Catch. Halt.

Repeat.

Hitch. Catch. Halt.

Repeat.

The back of my neck felt damp, clammy even. My hair was wet against my skin, and I was being held down. Weighted down by this strangely beautiful, handsome creature whose breaths I counted as they issued from between his lips. Tom’s tongue flicked at my lips, and his fingers teased between my soft legs.

Hitch. Catch. Halt.

I wiggled just a little, and succeeded in doing little more than freeing my left shoulder from the slippery cotton that concealed it. My left breast emerged, and was immediately captured by Tom’s mouth. No more hitching or catching or halting, Tom now moaned while his tongue swirled around a nipple already hard and tight from friction. A moment to breathe, and my breast felt cool, painted as it was by his saliva before it was sucked back into the heat of his greedy mouth.

Tongue circled tip. Finger tickled clit. Working in concert, a digit and a muscle playing in time. Was it choreographed? Practiced? I was too busy arching my back, rocking my hips, turning my body towards his to care.

“Shhh, shhh…” Tom consoled me, but did not release me. Instead, he nuzzled between my breasts, one bare and one still clothed. A kiss, and then: “So soft. Just here.”

My arms were pinned, one under me and the other wrapped around him. Just under his armpit, hand clutching at his back. Practically useless, it was. I couldn’t even scratch him, dig my nails into him. Hang on while his fingers began to pump inside me. They followed the pace, the suction of his lips, and if I could hear anything above my own cries I would have known those strange sounds. The silky wet of me welcoming Tom’s intrepid fingers, his playful touch. His thumb brushed against the side of my clit, and I cried out. My feet felt warm, and something about my cry drew his attention. He repeated the move, and I made that same sound.

“Eheheheheheheh,” Tom laughed, doing it again and again so that he could swallow my moans between deep kisses, his tongue massaging and thrusting into my mouth the way his fingers fucked into my cunt.

My eyes were shut, but I could sense his face near mine. Hear his confident chuckle transform into an eager whine. I managed to open my eyes, and he was close. So close that I saw nothing but blue. Dark, dark blue that were lit by intermittent flashes of lightning from the storm outside. The dying flames of the insipid votive candles that burned just beyond the bed. I kept my eyes open, even as I felt the pleasure, the sharpness of climax as it stuttered through me and twisted my form until I was nothing but a heaving, whimpering mess in his arms. I stared as he brought his fingers up to his mouth, painted his lips with what juices he wrung from me (and hadn’t stained my inner thighs), and licked each one by one. When the last finger was sucked dry, Tom pulled me into him and I flopped, I’m sorry to say, gracelessly at his side.

He was hard. That was obvious, but he said nothing. Just breathed and let his body sag into the bed with mine. But my hand had a mind of its own, and almost as soon as it fell across him, it was clumsily fiddling at his belt buckle. I could only watch it, my head pressed against his chest, face turned down and away. I saw Tom’s hand appear, the long fingers untucking the shirt so now I had a wide expanse of firm, white flesh. A nearly flat stomach that rose and fell in eager anticipation as my own hand finally liberated his cock.

My own, dry hand.

I licked my palm as best I could. I had to spit, though, for I was far too lazy to go looking for something like lotion that might make a better substitute for lube. And when I spat, Tom sucked in his breath. I watched his stomach descend.

Hitch. Catch. Halt.

Tom’s cock waved up, bobbing until I caught it in my hand. I loved how it was almost too big for my fingers to circle completely. Brushing my thumb just under the head, Tom’s hitched and so I did it again. My reward was a drop of clear fluid at the tip, sort of pulsing into view, and I used my index finger to smear it around. I took him in hand, a bit firmer this time, and squeezed as I drew my hand up the shaft before loosening my grip as I gently pulled down. It was the best I could do with one hand, for the other was cupping Tom’s mouth. Just one finger that Tom was sucking, but otherwise he could only breathe through his nose. Long breaths that followed the pace of my hand. His hands were in my hair, releasing and grasping at the curls that were finally beginning to dry against my head. I hardly noticed. I was entranced by the sight of his cock, soft skin over hard, throbbing muscle. It was hot, and I licked my lips but when I tried to move down, Tom’s fingers tightened. He sucked harder at my finger, and so I stayed where I was. Still but for the hand that worked inelegantly, twisting around his cock. Pulling, pumping, and it was my turn to whine. I wanted to sit up, pull myself down and swallow him until I gagged. I wanted his to hear him groan  _ Yes _ and  _ Harder _ and  _ Suck me deeper _ until my eyes teared even as I had him at the mercy of my tight mouth and my wicked tongue. I had to settle for biting the flesh of his stomach, his shirt now having ridden up to his chest. My teeth found his nipples, and I sucked at him while I jerked (what a strange, ugly word) at his cock and Tom came with a brief sob, and a shout.

He spilled on my hand, and on his lower belly. A little of it fell on one exposed hip, and drops clung to wiry pubic hair that I wanted to push my nose into.

So I did. After a moment, which I needed to free my finger from his mouth. Listen to him breathe, and wait for his fingers to comb their way out of my hair. I pushed myself up, then scooted down. I lay perpendicular to him, so he could see the length of my soft body. Tom folded his arms and pillowed his head, propping it up so he could watch my close my lips briefly around the head of his cock. Mouth at the hair at the base of it. Clean the cum off his skin by licking and nipping at tender flesh. A single finger that traced his hip before disappearing into my own mouth.

“Up,” Tom murmured, and so I crawled to him, following as he backed up against the headboard. He dug his heels into the mattress, working off his own jeans and boxers, pushing them off with his socks until they fell to the floor. His shirt was next, and I took care of that, slowly plucking at buttons while Tom could do nothing more than watch me with an indulgent smile on his face. Once I had him naked before me, I regarded him. He was lean, firm and fine everywhere, and if there was a little touch of softness somewhere around his belly, that made it all the better.

Sitting back on my haunches, I started to pull up at the hem of my nightie when Tom tutted at me. He patted his thigh.

“Keep it on,” he rasped, licking his lips. “And get over here.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Mina share what they did on their summer vacation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter to finish the fic, and so I can _finally_ move onto the next work.

Tom had me sitting in his lap for half a second before he took it upon himself to undress me. He made quick work of my flimsy nightgown, complimenting the color and the silkiness of the fabric even as he pulled it off me and flung it to the ground. He then rolled us over so I lay beneath him.

Tom shifted easily so he didn’t make me bear the weight of him. And when he moved, his cock would brush against my inner thighs. There was some relief to be found in splaying my legs further apart, enabling us to ease into each other’s bodies. His cock lined up perfectly in the cleft of my ass. Like a bookmark, I thought.

Everything slowed. The candles had burned down. I couldn’t see much, just the occasional flash in his eyes when I remembered to open mine. I mirrored him in my own way, raking my fingers through this curls as he cradled my head. At some point, he let go and his head drooped and then I was rubbing his jaw and his temples with the tips of my fingers. This man actually _purred_ , and I would have laughed had I not found the sound of it so endearing.

I could forgive his absence just as long as he promised to keep making that sound.

“You owe me…” I began to murmur in his ear, my breath catching when he sucked on my earlobe.

“An apology?” His beard tickled my cheek when he nodded.

“Not quite,” I replied. “An explanation, maybe.”

“Hmm?” Tom sucked on my bottom lip, releasing it with a pop. “Of what?”

“Tell me.” I kissed his cheek. “What you did.” I bit his chin. “On your summer vacation.”

“Precious little,” confessed Tom. “Long walks and runs with the dog. Pub nights with old friends. Occasional weekend trips to the country.” He kissed the tip of my nose. “South. Near the sea.”

“That sounds lovely, Tom,” I said, and I meant it. “But I already guessed as much.”

“Is that right?” He didn’t laugh but I could hear it in his voice. A tickle, and it made me happy to hear it. “Explain.”

“When I was checking you out earlier…” I began to say.

“Oh ho!” Tom laughed this time. “I thought I felt your ever appraising eye on me.”

“Jackass,” I retorted.

He merely sniffed.

“When I saw you in the lobby,” I continued. “You had a bit of color in your cheeks. And now…” I nudged at him with my belly, my hip, tipping him onto his back and I could lie on top of him. Hovering, my hair falling in my face but even so I was close enough to see. “A few more freckles on your forehead. The backs of your hands. Your hair’s lighter, too.”

“Alright,” Tom whispered. “My turn.”

He cupped the side of my face with his hand, gently turning it to one side then the other. Squinting in the dark, trying to make me out. He tapped my bottom lip with his index finger, trailed his fingers through my hair. He let his hand come to rest on the nape of my neck, giving me a gentle squeeze. A prompt for me to lean in closer and press my lips lightly to his.

“Your hair is longer,” he murmured. “Your cheeks are rosier, but maybe a little less round than before?”

“I’m like a squirrel in winter,” I joked. “Carrying nuts around in my mouth.”

“Hold onto that,” Tom smirked, and I thought, _Well, I guess I deserved that,_ just as Tom opened his lips and I could feel his tongue slipping between mine. To taste and to tease, his hand on the back of my neck setting the pace at which my head bobbed up and down. Ever so slowly, gently. There was no risk of bumping or bruising. It had been months but it didn’t feel awkward. Not this. Rocking into each other, wordlessly agreeing on a rhythm.

I would have found this maddening if I for one second actually cared to define whatever this was. I figured we were friends. But I don’t usually sleep with my friends. I don’t know if Tom is the kind of guy who does. When I felt his one hand slide down from the back of my neck to take hold of my ass alongside the other, and he waited for me to reach between us so I could take his cock in hand and guide it to my entrance before he pushed my ass down as he pushed his cock up, I supposed that he must be.

After he fucked me — again without a condom because while we may be adults we are also idiots, apparently — I lay on top of him and felt his cum seep slowly out of me. The slickness of semen turning clammy as it was cooled by dry hotel room air. I nipped at his chest and managed to coax him into the bathroom, where we cleaned each other up with wet washcloths. Tom removed the duvet, which was stained from, well, the fucking, and balled it up before stuffing into a plastic laundry service bag. I picked up our clothes and draped them over a wing chair before joining Tom in bed.

And this was the nice, if curious, part. I lay in the middle, with Tom at my side. Head turned and pressed to my shoulder while I kissed his temple and combed my fingers through his hair. The door to the living room portion of the suite was open, and from where I lay in bed, I could see Bobby still sleeping in his crate. Not at all bothered or distracted by the rain, or the presence of a strange woman in his master’s bed.

There was no reason for me to be here. Which made it all the nicer. To be invited. To feel wanted. Friend or not, Tom knew how to make me feel welcome.

I didn’t know if I had earned the right to this comfort. Because I hadn’t known Tom for very long, but I know a few things.

He talks with his mouth full. I don’t mind it so much because I do it, too. But he has a way of making it look cute and quirky instead of gross. Like he’s so excited to be eating and talking because they’re two of his favorite things so why wouldn’t he figure out how to indulge in both at the same time?

Tom’s habit of stroking his throat, brushing at the base of his neck with long, pale fingers, is well-documented. I’ve noticed that this is sometimes followed by an absent-minded scrubbing of the nape of his neck with the palm of his hand. Fingertips trailing idly through curls, the whole thing making my tongue itch just to lick him in that same spot when he’s done.

The thing that kills me, though, is this: before he drops off to sleep, he makes this sort of growling sound. Rubs his bare chest lightly, with both hands making faint circles. Soothing himself unconsciously before folding himself around me, hooking his chin over my shoulder, and falling into a vulnerable, open sleep.

I remembered all this from the first time. A cold weekend, months ago, when there was little more to do than eat, sleep, and fuck. Winter was not just a season but a state of being between consciousness and hibernation that all Chicagoans lived in, and found it almost impossible to fathom something so brilliant as summer.

Summer, which was the thrilling uncertainty of reconnection. Something, maybe even someone, made whole by a promise. It smelled like oranges and tasted like crisp water which cooled from the inside and was capable of soothing the heat of the sun, and slaking the kind of thirst that only whatever  _this_ was could bring.

**Author's Note:**

> The John Legend song quoted at the beginning is from the soundtrack to _Southside with You_


End file.
